The Birds of Prey Affair
by MLaw
Summary: People are dropping like flies at the New York Headquarters of U.N.C.L.E. pre-saga
1. Chapter 1

Light filtered in through the narrow windows, the shutters barely open on an innocent looking, but overcast New York skyline as Illya Kuryakin was seconds away from dashing to Alexander Waverly's side. He'd fallen unconscious without any warning.

The console in Waverly's cubbie in the wall was lighting up like a Christmas tree as one by one staff members were reporting emergencies. Just like Waverly, people throughout headquarters were passing out.

Illya picked up the handheld microphone, speaking into in it with a sense of urgency.

"Get me Mr. Solo please, and quickly."

"Right away," the Communications specialist answered. "Illya what's going on, people are dropping like flies."

"I know, just get me Solo," he barked. When under stress the Russian became impatient, often curt with people, snapping his fingers at them if they didn't move fast enough to suit him. Some shrugged it off, others resented it, but right now Illya could care less if he was bruising someones feelings.

.

The warble of his communicator forced Napoleon to unhappily raise his head as he heard it and grabbed it from his jacket pocket. Looking sheepishly at the woman who was running her fingertips inside his open shirt, swirling her fingers across his chest; he extracted her hands, excusing himself as she sat in a near state of undress beside him on his sofa.

He stepped into his bedroom, the place he thought would be his ultimate destination for the evening, but now suspected it would be otherwise.

"Solo here," he spoke softly.

"Napoleon come to headquarters immediately." Illya's voice was calm but firm.

A pang of anxiety hit the senior agent's stomach. "What's happened."

"Just pull yourself away from whoever the woman is you are doing and get here as quickly as you can."

"And how would you know I'm with a woman?"

"Are you not always? Kuryakin out," he answered tersely.


	2. Chapter 2

Napoleon buttoned his shirt, adding his shoulder holster and grabbing his suit jacket from his valet chair; he latched onto his tie, and automatically tied it into a half Windsor knot as he returned to the living room.

"Ummm, Sandra. I'm sorry but I've just received an urgent call from work. I have to go in."

"Oh that's just not fair," she protested, slapping her hand on sofa pillow. "What was that chirping thingy? And I didn't hear a telephone ring,"she asked suspiciously.

"That 'chirpy' thing was a pager and I called in, they didn't call me, so hence no phone ringing."

"Oh," she said with disappointment in her voice," Nappy, I'll just have to wait here then won't I?"

She took a sultry pose, stretching herself, catlike, across the sofa.

"That won't work," he cleared his throat, picking up her clothing and handing it to her. "I'm probably going to be gone a lot longer than I want to be." He waited as she slipped into her skirt, helping her zip it up while she buttoned her blouse, and quickly ushered her to the door.

He gave her one last kiss as he handed her shoes to her, promising he'd call her. Without waiting for a response, he quickly closed the door.

"You better call me Napoleon Solo." He heard her voice call from the other side of the door, knowing he probably wouldn't as she was getting a bit too clingy for his taste.

He walked back to the sofa, retrieving his Special from beneath the cushions and looking at his watch, he gave it a few minutes to make sure Sandra was gone before he called a taxi to take him to headquarters.

When he arrived inside Del Floria's he could sense something was very wrong. Del wasn't there to greet him, in fact there was no one in the tailor shop. He drew his weapon immediately as he entered the dressing room, not knowing what he would encounter.

Once he turned the hook, the door opened as always, slowly enough to give one a sense of anticipation. He tried not letting his imagination get the better of him and took a deep calming breath, exhaling slowly as he stepped inside, still keeping his gun ready.


	3. Chapter 3

Napoleon stepped into the reception area, finding it empty as well. He reached over the desk touching his fingers to the security pad, before he grabbed his ID badge, ensuring he would not set off any alarms. Normally the receptionist placed the substance on the agent's badges but since no one was here...

He pulled his communicator. "Channel D-Kuryakin."

"Napoleon where are you?"

I'm in reception. Illya no one's here or in the tailor shop. Will you please tell me what's going on?" He asked as he stepped through the secondary entrance, and as he did, he received a bit of a shock.

There were several bodies lying on the floor of the main corridor and he immediately bent down to see if they were alive. To his relief their pulses were strong, but they were unconscious.

"No doubt you have just stepped inside from reception," Illya said blandly. "Nearly the entire staff of headquarters is out cold, including Mr. Waverly. Lisa Rogers, and a few people in Communications, Security and some from the secretarial pool are unaffected, and me of course."

"What happened?"

"That is a very good question. People just collapsed one by one. I was in a meeting with the Old Man when he simply slumped over. I called for a medical team, but no one responded. Lisa told me everyone simply passed out as far as she could see."

"THRUSH?" Solo asked.

"One could only presume at this point, but how they managed it I do not know."

"I'll be right there, so stay put. Out." Napoleon tucked his communicator into his breast pocket, but still held his special in his hand as he moved quickly down the hall, heading to the elevator.

Minutes later the doors to the conference room quietly opened with Solo stepping through at a trot.

Lisa was standing next to Mr. Waverly, cradling his head in her hands, looking very uneasy."

"Is he all right?" The senior agent asked.

"His breathing sounds a little funny," she said. "Maybe we should get him to Medical just in case.

A light on Waverly's console flashed, and Illya flicked a switch, picking up the microphone. "Kuryakin here."

"Yes sir, this is Nurse Kelly in Medical, everyone's passed out and I seem to be the only one here who's still standing."

"That at least will be of some help," he said. "Mr. Solo, and I will be bringing Mr. Waverly up to you as he is unconscious as well. Prepare syringes and begin taking blood samples from everyone in your area. I will analyze them in the lab. Kuryakin out."

Another light flashed on the console, "Kuryakin here," he answered again.

"Illya its Mark, I just came into headquarters...what the hell is going on? There's people passed out everywhere."

"Not sure, just get yourself up to Waverly's office, and we will fill you in on what we do know."

"Gotcha mate."

Mark Slate hurried along the dull grey corridors, appearing in the conference room within minutes. "Cor, this is down right creepy. Is it like this all over?"


	4. Chapter 4

The Russian cocked his head, blinking slowly, staring at the British agent for a second, as Mark Slate could be a master of the understatement at times.

"Yes I suppose creepy would be an proper description, though we still do not know the cause of it," Illya replied.

Napoleon chimed in, "You stay here with Lisa to monitor communications. Illya and I are taking Mr. Waverly to medical. We have one nurse still standing up there to take care of him."

"And I will be checking blood samples she is currently taking to see what, if anything might be in their bloodstreams," Illya added. "That is the only thing that would make sense as to whatever caused this mass occurrence." He paused, squeezing his lips together as he thought. ""There is some commonality among those of us left unaffected and I need to find what that is, as it may lead to some sort of antidote, if there is indeed one that could be developed."

"That's all fine and dandy but you blokes aren't looking at the big picture. Don't you think this might be a precursor to physical attack on headquarters? I mean everyone here has been knocked out, leaving us virtually defenseless, don't you think?"

Napoleon raised his eyebrows, staring at Illya with a look that said "Why didn't we think of that?

"An excellent point Mark," he said, prompting him to press a yellow button on the console, setting off a security alert. The corridors of headquarters were bathed in an eerie glow as green and red emergency lights alternated flashing along the ceiling as well as a klaxons shrieking at a near deafening pitch.

He picked up the microphone. "This is Napoleon Solo, number one, Section two. To anyone in headquarters hearing this, please call in and report to Mr. Slate in the main conference room. Prepare for a possible armed assault on headquarters." He switched to another channel

"Emergency lockdown code 1121," he announced as he uncovered a red button and pressed it. "To all agents in the vicinity of the New York headquarters, we are preparing for imminent attack. Do not attempt to enter headquarters, position yourselves along the block and across from Del Floria's and report your locations to Mark Slate on channel E. I repeat, we are on emergency lockdown code 1121, Napoleon Solo out."

The code told every agent on the outside that headquarters had already been compromised, and the fact that the number one Section II agent was making the announcement meant that Alexander Waverly was either out of commission, or dead.

One by one channels flashed on the console and by Marks reckoning there were a dozen people still up and about inside the building, and that included himself; Solo, Kuryakin and Miss Rogers. One member of Security, two women from communication, one member of the lab and the rest were from the secretarial pool.

Not much to defend against and attack...


	5. Chapter 5

Another half dozen agents reported they were on route to headquarters, including Mark's partner, April Dancer. When the finally tally was reached, he called those numbers to Napoleon.

"That's not much to work with considering we don't know what we're up against." Solo sighed. "Mark I want weapons issued to everyone..."

"Everyone?"

"Yes, but make sure the ladies from the secretarial pool get clips with sleep rounds and not live ammo. And will you please shut off that alarm. I think everyone who needed to know, now knows. Out."

Everything became eerily silent as the alarms were shut down, only the lights continued to flash their warnings. Mark left Lisa to monitor the communications console, heading down to the armory and there he issued weapons to inexperienced women and that made him just a bit nervous; though snuggling up to them to give quick lessons in using a firearm more than made up for it.

"Eww Mark you're so manly," Candace purred as he wrapped his arms around her, helping her to aim the pistol at the target he'd set up down in the range located in the lower levels of headquarters. "I feel so safe with you."

Mark rolled his eyes, not knowing if he should take that as a complement or not. He knew he wasn't a ladies man like Solo, and often relied on his British accent to charm a girl. That for some reason attracted them to him, but more often than not, he seemed to muck things up with the 'birds.' At least he had a bit of fun repeating the training process with all four women.

His communicator chirped in the middle of it all.

"Mark, what's going on? I just heard the lockdown code." April Dancer's voice was filled with concern that only her partner could detect. To anyone else she seemed cool and collected.

"Mr. Waverly and nearly everyone in headquarters is unconscious. No one knows what caused it and Illya is checking some blood samples to see if he can find out anything."

"Is Mr. Waverly all right?"

"He seemed to be having some breathing difficulties and was taken up to medical, though there's only one nurse there unaffected. We have minimal staff in here to fend off an attack. Where are you girl?"

"I'm on the rooftop across the street with Agent Donnelly and so far everything looks to be normal at the moment.

"All right keep a sharp look out luv and be careful. I'm not out there to cover your back."

"I know Mark darling, I'll be careful and you do the same. Dancer...oh, hang on."

He could hear gunshots being fired. There was a sudden explosion that rocked the building as if it had been hit by an earthquake. The Klaxons went off again automatically, but Mark hit the button, shutting them down.

He had no doubt that everyone already heard and felt the explosion...


	6. Chapter 6

"Napoleon, Illya..." Mark called, his voice cracking as he raised it. "There was an explosion mates...in Del Floria's. The security cameras are showing lots of men inside, they're coming in through the agent's entrance. Some are wearing T.H.R.U.S.H. uniforms and they look armed to the teeth."

"We heard it. Hit the purple button on Waverly's console now!" Illya called out.

As soon as he did it, the reception area became filled with red smoke, knockout gas bringing down the first barrage of Thrushmen.

When the smoke and effects of the gas began to dissipate, Mark saw via the monitor a half-dozen bodies on the floor. More men kept pouring in through Del Floria's and one had a crowbar, using it to try to get through the secondary entrance.

"Illya there's more coming, they're trying to pry open..."

Not waiting for him to finish, Napoleon barked another order, "Hit the blue button now!"

Two small portals opened in the reception room walls to the right and left of the secondary door. The barrels of two automatic machine guns appeared, opening fire and hitting most of the attackers, though some escaped back out into smoldering remains of Del Floria's.

Mark opened his communicator. "April are you there?"

"Yes Mark, Donnelly is dead and I took a hit..." Her voice faded.

"April? APRIL!" Mark received no reply. He switched channels. "Anyone on the outside, do you read me?"

"Agent Marconi here, were pretty much pinned down out here."

"Are you anywhere near Agent Dancer?" Mark hid the desperation that was tearing at him.

"No sir."

"How many THRUSH can you see?"

"At least two dozen sir, they have the street closed off with what looks like work crews, and they're piling out of several vans parked in front of the entrance to headquarters

"Do the best you can Marconi, out."

"Did you hear that Napoleon?" Mark called.

"Yes, meet me and Illya in the corridor at the secondary entrance. Everyone else is to fall back and cover the File 40 archives, lab and computer sections. Disable the locking mechanisms if they have to and hunker down inside and cover themselves for an assault."

Napoleon couldn't allow himself think of the innocent secretaries who were stuck in this mess, yet he said a silent prayer it wouldn't come to them having to defend themselves and classified U.N.C.L.E. records...not exactly something they had signed on for in the first place was it?


	7. Chapter 7

Mark joined Solo and Kuryakin in the corridor, readying themselves for the assault. They each carried Specials converted to carbines, as well as extra hand guns. And the final preparation came when Illya handed the others small gas masks, while he held up a glass ball filled with a white substance in his hand.

They each put on their protective gear just as there was another explosion, blowing open the inner doors. The corridor filled with the acrid scent of an incendiary as Illya donned his own gas mask and tossed the ball at the invaders as they rushed in. It shattered at their feet, filling most of the corridor with a cloud of gaseous white smoke.

They could hear the coughing and sputtering of the Thrushmen as they breathed in the chemicals, but before the cloud could dissipate, shots rang out. Illya slammed back against a wall with a grunt, taking a hit to his shoulder. It slowed him down, but not enough to prevent him from returning fire.

It became fierce as the Thrush continued their rush, until the three UNCLE agents were force to retreat, still turning and continuing to fire their weapons. Napoleon grabbed Illya, helping him to his feet and as they turned the corner, the American pulled a small control device from his pocket. This was a court of last resort; if their attackers made it past this; the U.N.C.L.E. agents would be forced to retreat to file 40.

Once there, they'd have to destroy as many files as they could. Those records could simply not get into the hands of T.H.R.U.S.H.

Illya staggered, leaning against a wall as his partner steadied him.

"You all right tovarisch?"

The Russian nodded, and tried straightening himself, but it was no use, as he slipped down the wall crumpling to the floor.

There was no time to help him, and Solo returned his attention to the device in his hand, pressing a button when the Thrush goons reached just the right spot in the corridor.

The ceiling opened and from it dropped a large steel net, enveloping and trapping all but one of the attackers, and he hightailed it out the door into Del Floria's, but he found his retreat blocked.

"Going somewhere?" April Dancer smiled, pointing her gun straight at him. There was blood on her left shoulder but that didn't seem to deter her.

"Hands on top of your head if you please dear?"

.


	8. Chapter 8

Hours later Napoleon Solo, stood at the bedside of a now conscious Alexander Waverly. The Old Man complained of a terrible headache and was demanding an explanation as to what had happened.

"It seems sir that Thrush was able to infiltrate headquarters through the water supply," Napoleon said." After Illya...Mr. Kuryakin ran some blood tests he found a substance that simply acted as a knockout formula. It was delivered through the water system and anyone who drank the water or anything made with it such as coffee or tea fell victim to it. After giving the drug time to take effect, I'm sure Thrush assumed everyone in headquarters was taken out and that's when they mounted a full scale assault."

Waverly cleared his throat. "Well then it looks like we'll have to come up with a better system of filtration rather than direct use of city water supplies. Have R & D start on that immediately".

"Ugh, yes sir, as soon as they've recovered from the effects of the drug, "Napoleon said.

Waverly crossed his arms in front of himself, fidgeting a bit as he didn't have his Briar pipe to finger or light up for that matter.

" I think we should discuss further implementations to defend ourselves our operations across the globe. I want Security to come up with some new countermeasures in the event such an assault ever be attempted again. There is to be mandatory weapons training for every employee of U.N.C.L.E. right down to maintenance and housekeeping staff. Jolly good idea what, arming the secretaries, but I'd feel more comfortable with, ahem, official training under their belts."

"All right Mr. Solo," Nurse Kelly announced as she walked in the room., "time to let the patient have his rest."

"My dear, I had enough rest while I was unconscious and I do need to have my Chief enforcement agent tender his report to me," Waverly huffed.

She smiled at him rather cheerfully. "Now now, don't give me hard time. Doctor's orders are for you to rest. Be a good boy, close your eyes and go to sleep...or do I have to give you a shot to make you do that?" She held up a syringe, a good visual to warn him.

Waverly was taken back by that, as he was unaccustomed to anyone ordering him about, much less threatening him. "That will be quite enough young lady."

Napoleon found that somewhat amusing, as he, along with every other Section II agent thought the Old Man never slept.

"Maybe we should call it a night, you do need to recover sir,"Napoleon interrupted. "I'll finish my report in the morning."

He winked at Nurse Kelly on the way out to check on Illya who was still in recovery. The bullet in his partner's shoulder resulted in quite a bit of blood loss, but he'd been told the Russian would completely recover, as would April, who had been moved from recovery to her room down the hall from Mr. Waverly.


	9. Chapter 9

The next forty-eight hours found most of the UNCLE staff and Alexander Waverly fully recovered. April Dancer was still confined to her bed in Medical, while Kuryakin had again argued himself into an early release. He had a way of terrorizing the nursing staff and they were glad to see him go.

He'd been given the usual provisos...take it easy and no field work, otherwise he'd be put back in his bed in Medical in a heartbeat, and Security would be involved in making him behave for the rest of his stay.

Though, stubborn as usual, he'd gone so far as to remove his arm from its sling as he joined Napoleon and Mark at Waverly's conference table.

"It appears," Waverly announced with his usual aplomb," that the captured Thrush agents were more than willing to talk, especially the one taken prisoner by Miss Dancer. Once Security explained to them the error of their ways as well as the consequences they faced, the birds sang like a bunch of canaries, as it were. Apparently no truth serum was needed at all."

He sounded rather bemused at that, and Napoleon assumed it was out of a sense of pride that it took so much more to break an UNCLE agent than it did one from THRUSH.

"It's seems gentlemen that this whole mess was simply a plan to kidnap me, and breaking into our files was not even given a consideration, at least during the invasion. They knew they wouldn't be able to do so without the proper codes. It appears, however, their plan was to plant devices in our computers, and once they had the priority codes from me, the computers could be hacked and they would upload our secure files to their data base."

"Well, luckily they never got as far as File 40, or even near you sir," Napoleon added.

"Who may I ask who masterminded this whole affair?" Mark spoke up.

"That Mr. Slate will come as a rather a surprise to you, and you as well gentlemen." There was a twinkle in Waverly's eyes, making him look somewhat playful, and it seemed for a moment he was holding back the identity of this person. Teasing them, like children waiting to be given a present.

"Who was it sir," Napoleon asked politely.

Waverly turned to his console, flicking a toggle switch, sending down the television monitor mounted in the ceiling. He pressed a button, and an image began to slowly appear...

"I can't believe it," Napoleon blurted out, "Him?"

Illya shook his head, rolling his eyes in an equal state of disbelief.

Only Mark Slate spoke out, almost laughing. "He masterminded this, the ponce...no offence sir. The man is an idiot."

"I agree completely Mr. Slate, though we've been told this was his operation, I too find it hard to believe that such a man as he would be capable of such a precision driven attack, attempting to kidnap me and undermine our intelligence in the process. We were told they called this little foray of theirs _Operation Birds of Prey._"

Waverly looked to his Russia, as Kuryakin's expression seemed to mirror his thoughts.

"You think it was someone else from THRUSH?" Illya asked, playing with his pencil. He had a yellow note pad in front of him, and had jotted down something on it.

"Yes Mr. Kuryakin, I do. I see that you are taking notes, as is your habit. Do you have some other likely candidate in mind?:

Illya took hold of the table edge, turning and sending his note pad for Waverly to look at, rather than just announce what he'd written down. It was not in fact a name, but a quote. One that Napoleon recognized instantly as Alexander Waverly read it aloud.

"_He who establishes a dictatorship and does not destroy Brutus, or he who forms a republic and does not destroy the sons of Brutus, will reign only a short time."_ Beside the quote his partner had written a play on the name of the THRUSH plan, "_Operation Birds of Pray."_

_Waverly _didn't _make the connection, but Napoleon did. "Brother Love?"_

"Precisely, " Illya said.

"But isn't he dead?" Napoleon asked.

"I think perhaps not," Illya proposed the possibility the man still lived, if not, concluded it was one of his devoted followers continuing his work.

Waverly raised his bushy eyebrows at that theory. "Well, gentlemen at this point, unless we hear any chatter on THRUSH channels on their failed attempt, we will have no recourse but to leave this matter as unresolved."

"I seriously doubt they'll broadcast another failure across their network." Napoleon commented.

"Perhaps it is safe to assume then whoever was in charge will be dealt with for his failure, in typical THRUSH fashion of course, " Illya suggested. That generally meant the execution of the guilty party.

"That is something we can never presume Mr. Kuryakin," Waverly concluded, "In the meantime we will consider this affair open, until such time it is investigated and brought to a conclusion."

"Yes sir," the three agents agreed.

"Very well then, and thank you again gentlemen for a job well done. Mrs. Waverly appreciates your efforts to protect me and sends her thanks. You are all invited to Sunday dinner. I'm told Miss Dancer will be released from medical by then and is included in that invitation as well. And Mr. Solo, please endeavor to be on time...mustn't keep my Estelle waiting."

"Yes sir I will do my best." Napoleon nodded as he stood.

The Section II agents walked out of the conference room, their heads canted wistfully to one side as each of them wore an amused smile.

It wasn't often that Alexander Waverly offered a compliment, much less gave a dinner invitation to his home. Being brought into the inner sanctum of the Old Man's private life was a rare privilege indeed, and one not lost on the three of them...

.

Finis

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note: thanks to Alynwa for the inspiration for this chapter.


End file.
